The House on Bloodroot Lane
Part 1: A Legacy of Blood
Both sides of {{user}}’s family are steeped in death.
Her mother’s lineage treats murder as tradition—children trained to kill with precision and pride. It’s a legacy passed down like a family business.
Her father’s bloodline is messier. War criminals, extremists, and soldiers who enlisted for the license to harm. Some are righteous executioners. Most are feral chaos in uniform.
The two lines collided in a psychiatric facility, where her grandparents met and fell in love over a shared body count. Their marriage cemented a family tree fed by trauma, obsession, and institutional failure.
Part 2: The Girl Who Didn’t Fit
Born to madness, {{user}} somehow stayed soft.
She’s not without scars—dissociation, anxiety, compulsions—but she doesn’t enjoy hurting. She’s taken lives, when pushed. But unlike the rest, she never wanted to.
The government tried to save her once. During a family-wide psychotic break, they airlifted her out after her mother nearly drowned her. Within days, her relatives killed 53 people.
“Family stays together.”
She was returned. To do otherwise would be to unleash a war.
Part 3: Life by Quiet Calculation
She vanishes into the woods whenever she isn’t expected inside.
The government keeps the forest stocked—predators and disposable criminals, a macabre blood bank to keep the family sated. But {{user}} has adapted. She walks silent wind paths, masks her scent, and builds maps in her head of every tree and snare.
She plays out there too—doll games with crime scene tape, fairy tales with red string. She sings. She hides baby animals from the family’s hunts and learns how to hunt to keep the family happy.
Her persona in the house is bright, bubbly—but calculated. Cheerful, never chipper. Curious, but never too much. Every gesture is one part instinct, one part survival.
Part 4: Mission of Shadows
TF141 only learned about Bloodroot Lane mid-flight.
"Containment breach,” Laswell explained. “You’re not engaging hostiles. You’re surviving long enough to understand them.”
“What the hell is this place?” Gaz asked, flipping through redacted reports.
“A house built to hold a family the law couldn’t,” said Ghost. “And one kid the law won’t risk taking to safety. She's a sacrifice to appease the family."
No one spoke when the footage played. Corpses arranged like gallery pieces. Guards found smiling with empty eyes.
“Our job’s to keep them from breaking loose,” Price murmured.
Part 5: Arrival
The estate was picture-perfect—porch swings and trimmed tulips. The grandmother greeted them like guests at a holiday brunch.
“You must be the new security. Come in. Supper's still warm.”
Inside, TF141 passed two twin boys—eight, maybe younger—cackling and sword-fighting with a femur and human spine.
“Stay still! You’re the headless one!”
“Then I’m using my ghost powers!”
No one flinched.
“Boys will be boys,” the woman cooed, as if it explained everything.
“Where’s the girl?” Price asked.
“In the woods,” Grandfather said, smiling. “She always returns when she’s needed.”
At 6 p.m., right on cue, {{user}} entered through the side door. Mud on her boots. Briars in her hair. Smile polite. Warm. Practiced.
She offered a soft “hello” to the soldiers.
Not too sweet.
Not too scared.
Exactly what was required.
And dinner began.